


What Awaits the Sins of Thieves

by AnagramRMX



Series: The Power of Three (Plus Two) [9]
Category: Charmed, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Episode Style, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 11:24:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4135635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnagramRMX/pseuds/AnagramRMX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hoping to take advantage of Prue's work at Buckland's, Phoebe's ex-boyfriend Clay comes to town looking to sell a stolen (and cursed) urn. But a pair of thieves, Bela Talbot and his assistant Abby, want it for themselves. In the meantime, Dean and Piper clean house, and Rex puts the last steps of his plot for Sam into motion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Awaits the Sins of Thieves

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the crazy long break between updates. I probably should have put the story on another hiatus to let you guys know, but I really meant to finish this sooner. Things have been weird, though, so it didn’t happen. No review notes for today, but special mention to Artemis la Sol for checking in on me :)
> 
> Also, thanks to my beta rken42!

The sound of breaking glass was the first noise the old house had heard in weeks.

Not worried about being seen, Wesley went ahead and reached through the shattered window. The mansion was deserted. Had been since the man who owned it died over a month ago. All the same, he looked around to be sure before signaling to his partners that the coast was clear.

Clay and Palmer followed him through the door to a pristine sunroom. Clay looked around nervously at the expensive furniture, not at all thrilled to be breaking and entering.

Palmer had no such compunctions. “Stay here and keep watch,” he ordered Clay casually. “We’ll get the urn.”

Clay only nodded, staying where he was while Wesley led the way into the next room.

It wasn’t hard to find what they were looking for.

The urn was old. Blue with gold inlay to form the image of a goddess, of palm trees and other intricate symbols from ancient Egypt. It was displayed proudly in the middle of the room, marking it as one of the most valuable things in the house.

Palmer looked into the room behind him, frowning a little. “What do you think he would do if we told him?”

Wesley rolled his eyes. “Come on, no need to spook him.” he grumbled, moving over to the urn and looking over it carefully. “He probably believes it was the curse that killed the old man.”

“He was sung to death by a scorpion,” Palmer responded. “In the bathroom of an airplane.”

Glancing away from the urn, Wesley grinned at him tauntingly. “Don’t tell me you believe in that crap.”

Palmer rolled his eyes. “You think I’d be here if I did?”

Shaking his head, Wesley picked up the urn before glancing around the room with a smirk. “See any scorpions around?”

“Nope,” Palmer laughed, slapping Wesley on the back. “Just dollar signs. Let’s go.”

They didn’t get out of the room before Clay rushed in distracting them as the gold on the urn glowed briefly.

“Hey man, there’s a car coming! You guys must’ve tripped an alarm!”

Snapping to attention, Wesley tightened his grip on the urn before rushing back towards the exit. “Let’s get outta here…” he hissed, before catching sight of figures by the door.

The three of them rushed out of the house, hiding behind the thick leaves of the potted plants littering the patio. They could see two police officers walk into the house, guns drawn, and thankfully passing by the windows they were peeking through.

“I never should’ve let you talk me into this…” Clay muttered under his breath, quickly getting an elbow to the ribs from Wesley.

“Shut up!” he hissed, quickly handing the urn over to Clay. “Look, we’ll split up and meet in San Francisco, alright?”

Clay nodded frantically, staring to stand when Palmer grabbed his collar, yanking him back down. “Don’t you dare think about ripping us off, cause I’ll find you…”

He let Clay go, promptly taking off across the yard without looking back.

Clay followed a few moments later, leaving Wesley alone, waiting for his moment to sprint away as well.

Dust started to collect in the air.

Wesley looked at it curiously, narrowing his eyes as a trail of sand swirled into a form in front of him. It shimmered as it took the shape of a woman, and slowly became flesh before his eyes. She stood tall and regal in front of him, dressed in gold, with a beaded headdress. Her face was beautiful, but there was nothing seductive about the cold, displeased look on her face.

Wesley gaped dumbly, heartbeat racing as he took in the sight before him. “What are you?” he gasped.

She didn’t smile as she took a step towards him. “I am the guardian of the urn.”

“The what?”

She lifted a hand, and touched a ring on her finger. Something glowed before she reached out to touch him, and the panic growing in Wesley’s chest became even more frantic.

“Hey, what are you doing…”

The only thing he knew after that was blinding pain.

A spider crawled over his shoulders as he collapsed to the floor, crumpling over on himself and screaming his lungs out.

The guardian just stood over him stiffly. “You are being punished for your greed.”

She gazed into the bushes at the edge of the yard, spotting Palmer through the foliage as he made his way off of the property. She narrowed her eyes, watching him go while Wesley continued to writhe at her feet.

“As will your friends…”

 

(-:-)

 

Piper looked across the coffee table suspiciously. “So, can you tell me what this is about?”

Without looking away from the revolver he was cleaning, Dean scrunched his eyebrows together. “What do you mean?”

Even though he wasn’t watching her, Piper gestured to the mess surrounding them.

On a good day, the living room could be described as organized chaos. Sam had a bad habit of leaving his shoes lying around, and Phoebe never remembered to take her cups back to the kitchen. Yet, none of that compared to the current state of disaster that the two of them had caused.

A number of guns were spread out around Piper and Dean, hand guns on the coffee table, shotguns and rifles leaned up against the couch or on the floor. There was an enormous off-color patch on the rug where Piper had spilled a bottle of gun cleaner and there was still a giant burn mark on the table from an incident several weeks ago. Mixed into the chaos were a number of tools Dean was using to teach Piper to clean his plethora of weapons with.

“You’re kidding, right?” Piper replied, shaking her head as she looked back at the rifle in her hands, making a face as she smelled the cleaner. She fumbled a little as she slid the ram-rod down the barrel, hoping she was going it right.

“No really, enlighten me,” he dead panned, grabbing a rag off of the table before finally looking up at her.

Piper sighed, and rolled her eyes a little. “Okay, so you finally agreed to teach us to do…what you do, right?”

He nodded. “Right.”

“And you finally get us actually _interested_ in learning…”

He scrunched his eyes up, like he didn’t know what she was talking about before looking up at her. “Yeah…”

She looked at him pointedly, pulling the rod back out. “So once we all actually have _time_ to learn, you stop the training, and we start doing…house work?”

This time it was Dean’s turn to roll his eyes. “Hey, don’t skimp on gun maintenance,” he argued. “You’ll thank me when your gun _doesn’t_ jam while you’re being chased by a ghoul.”

Piper pulled the ramrod back out of the gun. “My _point_ ,” she sighed, “is that we’re all finally interested. The restaurant is closed for the week, Prue is avoiding Andy: we actually have time to train like you were doing with Phoebe. Instead, you have showed me how to clean a rifle, and took us shopping.”

Which, technically, he hadn’t wanted to do either. Prue had complained last time that all of Dean’s handguns were too heavy, except of course the one Phoebe had claimed. He had reluctantly taken them to buy their own guns, which of course led to a long lecture on gun maintenance.

Unfortunately for Piper, Prue had gotten to bail early so that she could take Sam to a doctor’s appointment, and Phoebe was nowhere to be found. She and Dean were going through the entire arsenal by themselves.

For a few moments, Dean just shook his head and went back to cleaning, leaving Piper waiting for an explanation, which she never got, Phoebe suddenly appeared on the stairwell.

Piper raised an eyebrow when she saw how her sister was dressed. Phoebe wasn’t supposed to be going anywhere, but her outfit was way too nice for her to be planning on cleaning the guns with them.

Her eyes went wide, and her jaw dropped when she saw the living room in its present state. “Oh god! Guys, you have to put those away _right_ now,” she blurted, rushing down the last few steps.

Again, Dean didn’t look up. “Why?” he grumbled. “I told you we were doing this, which by the way, where-“

“Please?” she blurted. “Please, put these away!”

“Phoebe, what’s going on?” Piper questioned, her tone growing a bit concerned at her sister’s behavior.

Phoebe sighed a little, and started picking up a couple of the guns, about to take them down to Dean’s room herself. “You remember that guy I told you about when I was in New York?” she asked. “Clay?”

While Dean obviously hadn’t ever heard the name before, Piper nodded. “Yeah,” she said, her brow furrowing. “You told me you never wanted to see him again.”

Phoebe shook her head, and waved one of the guns around lamely, much to Dean’s dismay. “Ancient history, we’re all good now,” she said quickly. “He’s coming through San Francisco on a job, and I told him he could swing by and catch up.”

“And you didn’t think to tell us?” Dean asked sharply.

“It was last minute!”

Dean swore, and quickly joined Piper and Phoebe in hauling the guns downstairs. “So who the hell is this guy?” he grumbled.

“Phoebe’s ex boyfriend,” Piper explained. “He’s a musician she met when she was working at the Rainbow Room.”

The look on Dean’s face clearly said that he had no idea what the Rainbow Room even was, and hardly could have known Phoebe had worked there. Piper just shook her head at his lack of communication skills.

“All you need to know is that they had a big fight over something he did, and apparently they’re okay now,” Piper supplied succinctly.

The explanation didn’t seem to help any, but Dean just chose to roll with it. Between the three of them, it only took them two trips to finish clearing out the guns, and Phoebe was bouncing on her heels when they reconvened in the front room.

“He’s gonna be here in like two minutes or something so…”

The doorbell cut her off, and she immediately stiffened, turning sharply towards the door.

“No time, both of you scatter…”

Dean frowned. “Okay you can’t just…”

She looked back at the two of them and waved her hands. “Shoo!” she insisted.

Sensibly, Piper rolled her eyes, and grabbed Dean’s shoulder, easily leading him back downstairs so that they could finish cleaning the guns while hiding. Phoebe turned back towards the door and ran a hand through her hair, putting on her best smile before walking to the front room.

She opened the door before the doorbell could ring again, and she felt a rush of happiness when she saw a man standing outside. He lit up when he saw her.

“Phoebe…”

The smile on Phoebe’s face widened, as she took her hand off the door knob, taking a step towards him. “Hi,” she greeted him.

“It’s really good to see you,” he said. He hesitantly took a step forward before wrapping his arms around her in a hug. She immediately felt herself relax, and pulled herself tighter into his embrace.

She started to close her eyes, though, and immediately a flash went through her head. All she could see, for a moment, was the grainy image of her and Clay sitting at a table together, heads bowed close over their clasped hands. The two of them looked so desperate to cling to one another, and Phoebe’s face flushed; flabbergasted by the well of emotions she was feeling.

She felt breathless when it ended. As she pulled away, Clay looked at her concernedly.

“You okay?”

She was surprised that she wasn’t sure how to answer that question.

 

(-:-)

 

Sam looked around the room with a frown on his face, making faces at the sterile counter and doctor’s tools around them. He absentmindedly scratched at the bandage on his left arm, where they had just taken blood.

“Do you really think they’ll find something?” Sam asked aloud, looking over at Prue. She was sitting in the only actual chair in the room, seeming unfocused.

She had been like that a lot lately, when anything related to magic came up. Ever since she had chosen to hide her powers from Andy, at least.

It was a difficult subject. No one at the manor had figured out how to bring it up with her yet.

She pursed her lips. “Don’t know…” she admitted. “Your normal doctor didn’t, and we’re pretty sure your headaches are magical anyway, so I doubt it.”

Sam raised an eyebrow pointedly. “Then why are we here?”

It wasn’t the least bit intimidating, and Prue rolled her eyes at him. “Because we have to make sure. Besides, my boss recommended this guy,” she said, shrugging slightly. “He got us the consultation and everything, not like it would hurt anything…”

She trailed off as her phone started to ring. She pulled it out of her purse and muttered, “Speak of the devil…” before standing up. “I’ll be back in a second. Work is calling.”

Sam didn’t say anything as she walked out, but sighed in agitation before falling back onto the observation table.

He had thought they would be done with this by now. He had had his powers, and the headaches that came with them for months. Surely they either should have stopped by now, or they should have found a way to _make_ them stop.

They hadn’t though, and nothing they had looked into worked. Normal medicine was all Prue could think to try, and despite himself, Sam was hoping that it yielded results this time.

The door opened, and a short man with a beard and glasses came through it, fingers fumbling with the hem on his lab coat while he looked at a sheet of paper in his hands. “Alright Miss Halliwell, I’ve just…”

He paused, and looked around the room, for a moment, before blinking at Sam. “Where did your sister go?”

Sam didn’t correct him. “Outside,” he answered shortly.

Dr. Walker blinked. “I see…” he started awkwardly.

Raising an eyebrow, Sam looked at him questioningly, and immediately regretted it when he caught the doctor’s eye. The older man was looking at him pensively, as if he weren’t entirely sure what to do, and didn’t want to talk to him at all. It was creepy and disconcerting at the very least.

The door swung back open as Prue walked back in, looking mildly irritated. “Sorry Dr. Walker, had to take a phone call. Did I miss anything?”

As if he hadn’t been watching Sam like a creeper for the last five minutes, the good doctor brightened up, smiling at Prue. “Not at all, Miss Halliwell, we were just waiting for you to come back. Now…” He paused to shuffle through the papers in his hand, looking at them for a moment. “I’ve got the nurses processing your blood work as we speak, and I’ll call you as soon as we get the results back. I’m sure we’ll be able to decipher what it is that’s plaguing your boy here.”

Prue smiled back, moving over to put a hand on Sam’s shoulder as he jumped off of the observation table. “That’s great, thank you very much.”

Dr. Walker nodded, continuing to smile as he began to herd the two of them out the door. “It _is_ my job,” he chuckled. “Now, both of you have a wonderful day…”

“You too.”

The two of them walked quietly out towards the parking lot, Sam occasionally making a face as he considered how Dr. Walker was behaving.

Eventually he asked, “Did he seem weird to you?”

Prue raised an eyebrow. “No…Why?”

After glancing back over his shoulder at the doctor’s office, Sam looked back around and shook his head. “It’s nothing…”

 

(-:-)

 

Phoebe walked alongside Clay at the park, smiling as she listened to her friend’s stories. It had only been a few months since she had seen him, a lot had happened.

“Oh, I wish you could have been there,” he added, a wide grin on his face. “You would’ve loved Egypt. Pyramids, giant sphinx, Nile River, camel taxis. It was amazing.”

Snorting, Phoebe had to ask, “You rode a camel?”

“Hey, they’re friendlier than some of the cab drivers I met, believe me.”

“Can’t imagine they’re faster,” Phoebe muttered, shaking her head before glancing back at him. The smile on her face fell away, though, when she saw the love-struck expression on his face. She glanced back at the sidewalk in front of her.

It was harder than she thought it would be to be around him again. They had been together for a while, after all. For most of the time she had been in New York. But things had been difficult. Money was always tight between the two of them, and Clay was willing to stoop really low to get by. It was one of the many things that led to their breakup, and she didn’t regret leaving him to come back to San Francisco.

But he still looked at her the same, as if she were the most exquisite thing in the world, like he wanted her more than anything. She didn’t know what to do with that, especially not after her premonition that morning.

After a moment, Clay spoke again, nudging her gently. “You were right to leave me.”

Phoebe made a face, trying to keep it light when she said, “And the conversation turns…” in the most teasing voice she could manage.

He looked back up at her, this time a regretful expression on his face. “No, I’m serious,” he said. “You were the best thing that ever happened to me and I blew it, I know that.”

“Clay…” Phoebe sighed, trying to find the words, before shaking her head and looking back over at him. She just didn’t know what to say to that.

Clay barreled on, though. “What? Too much too soon?”

She tried not to sound bitter, even laughing when she said, “Yep.”

That at least made Clay snort derisively.

She knew it wasn’t something to take lightly, though, and after a moment she glanced back up at him. “Look, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you here? With me now?”

“Why?” Clay asked, trying to sound like he was making a joke. “Can’t a guy visit?”

“Yeah, but you’re not just a guy,” she muttered, gently hitting him in the arm with her purse. “You’re Clay, and Clay comes with strings attached.”

Clay let out a tiny breath of laughter. “I could never hide anything from you,” he said, pretending to whine.

“Actually,” Phoebe started, her voice lilting playfully. “You could. That was one of our problems, remember?”

Shaking his head, Clay admitted, “I picked up this urn at an overseas market. Thought it might be worth something.”

“So you want me to get Prue to help you because of the auction house?”

“Guilty.”

Phoebe glanced over at him, and grinned slightly. “Phew,” she teased. “For a minute there, I thought you were here to win me back.”

Clay managed a small laugh. “No, Phoebe, I think too much of you to still believe you’re interested.” It didn’t come out as much like a joke as he had intended, and he sighed. “Look. It’s no secret. I’ve been in some trouble, gotten in too deep. I just thought if I could sell this urn, make some money, pay off a little debt, I can make a fresh start.” When he glanced over at Phoebe, she was looking at the ground in front of her seriously. He pursed his lips.

“Hey, think about it?” he asked quietly.“Please, Phoebe?”

She tried to think of something to say. Instead she kept walking.

 

(-:-)

 

Dr. Walker let his shoulders droop, rolling his eyes a little as he walked out of the doctor’s office, tossing his lab coat on top of a potted plant. He had known when he took this job that he would always have to appear far more friendly than he was accustomed, but that didn't mean he enjoyed any of it.

He turned to the corner, fingering the vials of Sam Halliwell's blood in his pockets for a moment before finding the item he was actually looking for: a cell phone. He pulled it out of his pocket and dialed the last number he had heard from.

“Did you get it?”

The first response on Walker’s tongue was rude and full of slurs, but he knew better than to treat a superior like that. “Yes sir, more than enough for your purposes.”

“Well, I don’t think you can ever have enough blood…” the man on the other end of the line chuckled. “Now, you know magic better than I do, any idea what’s wrong with the boy?”

It wasn’t a lie. Walker was no doctor, not really, but he knew a few things about what magic could do to a body. Just touching the blood had given a rush to his system, followed by a burning sensation that any demon recognized as _light_ magic.

"The demonic blood spread, just as intended. I wouldn’t be able to pick what was his from what wasn’t if I didn’t know what I was looking for, but his own magic is starting to fight it now that it’s active. I don’t know why it would only affect his brain, but that’s my theory for the headaches.”

“What about the boy's visions?"

Walker shrugged, although he knew his boss couldn’t see. "I'm not an empath. It would take months and more than just the blood for me to know for sure what's going on in that boy's head while he's sleeping. Best guess, his magic is going after the problem like it’s an infection. His active power isn't offensive, though, so it's just seeking the source through visions."

"And that's how it's connecting with the others.”

"Probably. We have too much protection to be seen unless we want to to, so we’re mostly hidden from it..." Walker said. "You could always just let Sam think that he's a freak, let him simmer until its time."

"If I could trust that his family wouldn't figure out the cause, I just might." His boss muttered, trailing off as he was wont to do.

Walker walked out of the hospital, heading to find a taxi, wishing for once that he had learned to shimmer from place to place, instead of focusing on proper magic by itself.

His boss spoke up. "No. The Halliwells and the Winchesters have a nasty habit of going after things they don't need to. If his visions keep up, he'll find out sooner than later what he's meant for. We need to close the connection."

"And how do you intend to do that?"

On the other side of town, Rex Buckland looked out the window of his office as he saw Prue walk into the building, late from her appointment, and oblivious to the true purpose behind Rex’s recommendation of a specialist. He was quiet for a moment before he swiveled in his chair.

"I'm sure I'll think of something..." he muttered before setting the receiver down, and getting out of his chair.

Within a few minutes, he was out of the office, putting on a bright smile as he walked past his employees, looking everything like the hard working man he really wasn’t. He was focusing on getting to Prue’s office, to act concerned about Sam, when he saw a young lady out of place, glancing around the office like she was looking for something.

He frowned a little, stepping up beside her before asking, “Trying to find your way?”

To her credit, the girl did not jump in surprise, only turning around, and smiling self conciously as she nodded. She looked like any other girl you would find in San Francisco, but at the same time, Rex couldn’t help but feel like something was off.

“I’m here to visit my dad,” she said, sighing a little. “But I got turned around, and I think I’m in the wrong place…”

Nothing about her story seemed wrong. But then again, Rex was a demon. He got off thinking about the atrocities the world committed, and something branded into the back of his mind told him that she was lying, and that she certainly couldn’t be trusted.

Even so, she was looking for all the world like a lost puppy, and for the sake of his cover, he couldn’t just stab her like he would any other possible threat, so he just nodded understandingly, putting a hand on her shoulder and turning her back towards the reception area. “Why don’t you go speak to my secretary? I’m sure she can help you out…”

The young girl smiled at him, and nodded before starting to skip out of the office. Rex turned around, sneering slightly as he returned to his task.

He knocked on Prue’s door lightly, smiling when she jumped and looked up from the book that she had on her desk.

“Oh, hi Rex,” she said politely.

“Morning, Prue,” he responded. “I just wanted to check in and ask how your appointment with Sam went. Was Doctor Walker of any help?”

“We won’t know for sure until he’s looked at Sam’s test results,” Prue answered, putting down the painting. Her mouth twitched a little nervously, and Rex wondered what she was anxious about. Surely she didn’t know Walker was actually working for him, but to be on the safe side, he changed the subject.

“What’s that there? The book?”

Prue looked back at the old volume and held it up. “Oh, doing some research on a piece I got a call about yesterday,” she answered shrugging a little, and pointing to a necklace on the edge of her desk. “Someone might want to buy it and wanted to know more, so I pulled it from storage. It’s Russian, probably 16th century if the manifest is anything to go by, but I have to admit: art is my specialty, not jewelry. I’ll probably be working on it for the rest of the day…”

“Ah…maybe have someone else-“

“Knock-knock.”

Both of them looked around. Prue looked surprised to see her sister standing there with a man Rex didn’t recognize. Rex didn’t mind however. It was a good enough excuse to walk away, and get back to business.

“Ah…Phoebe, hi, what are you doing here?”

“Favor for a friend,” she said, pointing to Clay before looking at Rex with a raised eyebrow. “Have a minute to talk?”

Prue looked at Rex questioningly, who smiled, and started to walk away. “Oh, by all means,” he said obligingly. He walked away from Prue’s office, wondering vaguely if Hannah had already met with Walker to pick up the blood.

On his way out, he didn’t notice the girl he had sent out earlier.

Hiding almost invisibly behind the door, she frowned as she closed it quietly, annoyed at what she had overheard.

Her boss would not be pleased.

 

(-:-)

 

Prue looked curiously at the man Phoebe had brought along, raising an eyebrow as he came in, readjusting his grip on what looked like a priceless urn.

“Ah…Phoebe, I don’t think I’ve met your…” She trailed off, not sure what he was to her sister. Prue had never seen him before, after all, so he couldn’t be Phoebe’s boyfriend. Not if he didn’t already know about magic. And Prue would know about him if…

Or maybe Prue was the only one who had that problem.

She tried to ignore that train of thought while Phoebe looked up and nodded rapidly. “Oh, right! Prue, Clay. Clay, Prue. We’re friends from New York.”

Prue nodded, and looked at Clay instead, who had stood up a little straighter and was trying to give her a good impression. She could recognize the look on his face, though, the nervous smile, and the worried arch in his eyebrow. It wasn’t just like he was meeting his girlfriend’s family. He had something else to worry about.

Keeping that in mind, she asked, “And…what is it that you’re helping him with?”

“I was hoping that maybe you’d be able to sell something for me,” Clay answered. He set the urn delicately on top of her desk, letting Prue look at it. It was definitely beautiful, and she didn’t have to be an expert to know that it was authentic. “I picked this up at a market overseas.”

The phrasing gave Prue pause, and she looked at him critically. “Does that mean you bought it?”

Phoebe frowned. “What else would it mean?” she asked.

Not about to start a fight, Prue let it drop, shaking her head, and turning back to the urn appraisingly. She took a moment before saying, “Well, it’s really beautiful. Gold inlay….twenty-four carat, a lot of lapis. Looks to be from Egypt…”

She paused again, focusing on the images on the side, ignoring it when Clay tried to tell her something, before she added, “This etching is quite interesting. Very unusual.”

Clay looked hopeful. “You think it’s worth something?”

“Well, I would have to determine the urn’s origins,” Prue said, shrugging slightly, just a little suspicious. “It’s previous owners…”

Phoebe waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, couldn’t you skip a step or two?”

Frowning, Prue looked at her severely. “Phoebe, I cannot risk this auction house’s reputation with something like this without checking it first.”

In response, Phoebe pouted, playfully whining, “Come on, come on, come on…I’ll, uh…what will I do?” She trailed off, starting to smile. “I will cook you dinner!”

Prue couldn’t help but smile back, even given the situation. “Oh, don’t threaten me,” she joked, before looking back at the urn. She still wasn’t sure about it’s origins, but she went ahead and sighed. “Fine. I’ll see what I can do.”

Phoebe bounded out of her seat excitedly, rushing around the desk to give Prue a hug while Clay seemed to relax in his seat. “Hey, thanks…” He breathed. “Thanks a lot.”

Prue didn’t get to respond before Phoebe did. “Is she the best or what!” She hugged Prue a little harder before standing up, moving back around to the other side of the desk. “Thank you, thank you!”

 

(-:-)

 

Palmer was nervous as he walked out of the elevator and into the top-floor suite of the hotel. It was a very nice place, gold practically dripping from all of the fixtures as he walked up to the door.

He had never seen Bela Talbot before, only heard rumors from guys he had met on the job, or in bars when he was looking for a new client. Talbot had a reputation for taking the _weird_ objects. If any supposedly magic or cursed objects were reported stolen, you could generally guess whodunit. Palmer had lucked out on getting this meeting at all. From his phone call, this was the only night he’d be able to meet Talbot in person.

His grip on the photos in his pocket tightened as he knocked on the door.

There was silence for several moments before the door was yanked open, and Palmer was dragged in by his collar.

The person in the room gracelessly shoved him into a wall, pinning him with one hand before patting him down, as if looking for weapons or wires. Palmer’s heart beat thudded harshly as he waited for the guy to say something.

It was a while before the hand on his neck moved, nudging Palmer to face forward.

His first look at his captor came as a surprise. He had always presumed that a name like Bela Talbot would have come from someone younger, a horror movie buff. The man in front of him, though, was at least in his fifties. He had a lined, stern looking face, with dark eyes. His graying hair was slicked back, keeping it out of his face, and he was studying Palmer more sharply than Palmer was studying him.

It was a few moments later that the man let go of him. “You Palmer?” he asked, in a raspy, accented voice. Palmer couldn’t place it, but he guessed that the man was from somewhere in Europe.

Palmer pulled himself away from the wall, swallowing hard. “I am,” he grumbled. “Are you Talbot?”

“I might be.” The man turned around, starting to walk back into the living room of the hotel suite. “Let’s make this quick. If what you have to say doesn’t interest me, I have another client to meet with…”

“Right,” Palmer answered before moving forward, pulling the photos out of his pocket. He followed Talbot into the next room and sat down across from him on one of the sofas, laying the photographs out on the coffee table. “I’ve been told you deal in cursed objects.”

Talbot didn’t respond as he leant over, looking at the first picture. He was quiet as he moved onto the next image, and the next, before shaking his head. “Well, this is certainly up my alley,” he agreed. “Egyptian, middle kingdom, 24 carat inlay. I can almost read the spell work here…Might I ask how you came across it?”

“Was in Egypt helping a friend, heard the owner died. Thought it might be a good opportunity…”

A dark look came over Talbots face before he looked up at Palmer. “You _stole_ this object?” he questioned. “Might I ask what precautions were taken?”

Palmer froze, not sure what the right answer was, but before Talbot had a chance to snipe at him, there was a clinking sound in the kitchenette, and Talbot snapped to attention.

Without a word, he stood up, stalking forward carefully, putting a hand at his side. Palmer could see from the outline of Talbot’s jacket that he was carrying a wicked knife, and the idea about what he was about to do with it did not excite him.

Without warning the intruder in the kitchen slid forward through the door, and Talbot relaxed.

“Abby, you were supposed to be back hours ago!”

Palmer was shocked still when he realized that the _intruder_ was a teenage girl.

She was short and slim, with a pretty face. She looked nothing like Talbot, but had his same harsh expression. It made Palmer feel like she had seen far more than a girl her age should have, and it honestly scared him a little.

“The necklace wasn’t at the warehouse,” she explained. Her voice was accented too, but it was definitely British, and she sounded annoyed. “It was moved to the office last night and I’ll have to wait until the office is empty to get it.”

Talbot just rolled his eyes at her before turning around, and walking back over to Palmer. “You’ve just interrupted a very important meeting, I hope you realize.”

The look on Abby’s face told Palmer that she _knew_ Talbot didn’t think this was important at all, but she forced herself not to glare, and nodded. “I apologize. Would you and your associate care for me to make you some tea?”

“That would be much appreciated,” Talbot said, sitting back down while Abby rolled her eyes and returned to the kitchen. “I apologize for my assistant…now where were we…”

He picked up a photo and looked at it for a while. “If you took no precautions while obtaining the urn then I’m afraid that I can’t give you a bid until I’ve seen it up close. Curses are difficult to work around, and I won’t make an offer if I can’t keep the curse off of myself.”

“I’m sure that plenty of people would pay more than you for an Egyptian urn anyway,” Palmer said, attempting to bargain, but he look on Talbot’s face showed that he wasn’t buying it.

There was another noise from the kitchen, but this time Abby appeared around the corner with a serious look on her face. “A cursed Egyptian urn?” she asked. “Is that what you’re selling?”

“Abby…” Talbot warned.

Abby huffed. “I saw one being held at Buckland’s today. If he doesn’t even have it in his possession then you shouldn’t even be talking to him…”

“How I conduct business, is none of your concern,” growled Talbot, straightening up authoritatively and looking at her with a very serious expression.

His gaze made Abby’s expression drop, and she swallowed. The glint of fear in her eye made Palmer wonder if Talbot was threatening her somehow, but then he remembered that it wasn’t any of his business.

“At Buckland’s, was there a man named Clay trying to sell it?” he asked.

Abby looked over at him solemnly, but nodded. “Yes. He and a woman named Phoebe were discussing prices with one of the specialists, but she wouldn’t price it for them unless she had an owner’s manifest.”

Palmer swore a little. “I told him I would find someone. Clay was one of the guys I worked with to get this thing. He’s new at this.”

Rolling his eyes, Talbot stood and walked across the room to a suitcase he had stood up, full of books. “It sounds like _all_ of you are…” he muttered.

He picked one of the books out of the case, looking at the hieroglyphs on the spine before starting to flip through it. “Luckily for you, I am the best. If it’s valuable, I can take the vase off of your hands and take care of the curse at the same time…”

Palmer grinned. “That is exactly what I-“

The book snapped closed with a crack that could deafen, and the look on Talbots face quieted Palmer.

“For the right price.”

Palmer started to sweat.

Behind him, Abby smiled wryly.

 

(-:-)

 

Clay kept close to Phoebe as they walked away from Buckland’s. Cars and people were streaming by, and it felt just like it did when they were in New York. Carefree, in love; having the time of their lives.

At the same time, though, it wasn’t. Anytime he looked at Phoebe, he knew he couldn’t grab her hand like he once had. After his last big screw up, he knew Phoebe would never trust him like that again. Even now, he could see the lines on her face that showed she had her doubts about seeing him again at all, and definitely had doubts about helping him with the urn.

He coughed, wondering what she would do if he told her he had helped to steal it from a dead man. She might have been laid back, but Phoebe had always had a strong sense of what was right and what was wrong. Would she think it was really that bad if he stole something to save his neck? Or did it make him just another asshole? He’d bet it was the latter.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he licked his lips before saying, “Thanks for doing that Phoebe…”

The girl beside him looked up, smiling broadly, although there was a little hesitancy that showed she was wondering the same things her sister had been. “No problem. Prue can get you a great price for it too. She’s really good at her job.”

Clay nodded. The other woman hardly resembled her sister. She also didn’t seem to know who he was, which only meant that Phoebe hadn’t told her family about him, which he didn’t really blame her for. He laughed a little. “Well, it would be nice if she could like me a little bit…”

Phoebe laughed a little. “She likes you,” she said in amusement. “She’s just real protective of _me_ …that’s all.”

“I remember when that was my job.”

He threw an arm over her shoulder, not grabbing on like he wanted, just trying to be friendly, getting a small laugh in reward when Phoebe looked back at him.

“And then I quit you,” she teased.

Except not really, because Clay could feel it stinging.

They didn’t say anything else as they walked further down the street, passing by a hotel. Clay barely noticed when a man stepped out of the doors, but as soon as he saw him, and recognized Palmer’s face, he froze.

A second later, Palmer recognized him, too.

It was the first time they had seen each other since leaving Egypt.

The other thief’s eyes narrowed, but he tried to smile before he said. “Hey, Clay.”

Clay tried not to tense. Something about Palmer had always creeped Clay out, as if he needed to check for his wallet, or make sure there wasn’t a knife behind his back.

He swallowed thickly. “Palmer, what are you doing here?”

“Bumping into you, I guess,” Palmer replied, letting his eyes slide over towards Phoebe. She moved just a little closer to Clay, and he could guess that she was just as freaked out as he was. “Aren’t you going to introduce us.”

“Ah…yeah, sorry,” Clay muttered, although he was nothing of the sort. “Phoebe, this is Palmer. I met him in Cairo.”

Phoebe looked up at him, as if asking if this was really okay before glancing back over towards Palmer, putting on a smile. “Wow. Small world, huh?”

Palmer nodded, still smiling in the slightly eerie way he usually did. “Yeah, right?” he said, before looking back to Clay. “Hey, what’s going on with that urn?”

The pointed way he said it made Clay’s hair stand on end, but before he could play it off, Phoebe asked, “Wait, you know about the urn too?”

Palmer’s eyes narrowed a little, looking at Phoebe while Clay interrupted nervously. “Well, actually, that’s where we met,” he admitted. “The market place where I bought it.”

There was a pause that made Phoebe’s hair stand on end, and Palmer looked back at Clay before saying, “Yeah, right, the market place. Right. I thought you were gonna sell it.”

“Well actually, Phoebe’s sister works at an auction house,” Clay responded, waving a hand in Phoebe’s direction. “She’s looking for a buyer as we speak.

The look on Palmer’s face shifted, eyebrows rising in surprise and disapproval that he made no attempt to hide. “That’s…good,” he eventually muttered. “That’s good. The sooner the better, I guess, huh?”

Phoebe glanced between them curiously. She could tell by just looking at Palmer that he wasn’t someone to get mixed up with, and Clay wasn’t at all happy to see him. But that begged, the question, why was he involved with the urn?

“Hey, are you okay?” she asked him warily.

Her question forced the look off of Palmer’s face. “Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine. Thanks…” he muttered. “It’s just…ah. I’m just a little tired. Jet lag, you know?” He shrugged before looking back to Clay. “Are you staying at the Ashcroft, like I suggested?”

“Yeah.” Clay nodded hesitantly, eyes darting back to Phoebe for a second. “Sure.”

“Me too. Uh maybe we’ll hook up later.”

Clay looked entirely unenthusiastic about those prospects, but grunted in agreement.

Palmer seemed to get the picture, and nodded to Phoebe as he started to walk off. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said, waving a little.

“Oh, yeah,” replied Phoebe. “Yeah, you too.”

With that, Clay nudged her arm, and they immediately started walking in the opposite direction that Palmer had come from.

Phoebe shuddered, and tried not to look over her shoulder. “Ugh…creepy guy…”

Clay’s face scrunched up distastefully. “Yeah.” He muttered, trying to forget the entire meeting had happened. “You hungry?”

 

(-:-)

 

Prue struggled to keep the phone wedged between her head and her ear as she typed on the computer, going through database after database in an attempt to learn more about the urn sitting on the opposite side of her desk.

“I’m sure it’s nothing…” Piper muttered, on the other end of the line.

Sighing slightly, Prue pulled a hand off the keyboard to adjust the phone. “Well what am I supposed to think Piper?” she muttered. “Phoebe’s ex pops into town and wants me to sell something for him. You think that’s a coincidence?”

Her sister let out a slight huff of a laugh. “And you wonder why Phoebe doesn’t tell you things…” she muttered. “You worry too much.”

“No, I don’t,” Prue insisted. “I just don’t want to see her get hurt, that’s all. This entire situation is giving me a really bad feeling. I can’t explain it…”

“I can. You don’t think he’s good enough for her, just like you didn’t think Jeremy was good enough for me.” She paused, and Prue knew that her sister was frowning slightly. “Of course, in his case you were right, but that’s not the point…”

Prue pulled away from the computer entirely this time, and glanced at the urn with narrow eyes. Piper had a point about her focusing too much on the wrong problem. The question was whether it was really about Phoebe, or if she was just distracting herself from her own issues. “No, your point is that it’s none of my business…” she murmured. “And you’re probably right.”

“I know I’m right, I always am.”

Prue snorted a little. “Alright then, Miss Know it all, what’s Dean utilizing your services for now?”

“Rock polishing.”

The comment caught Prue off guard, and she sat up a little straighter. “Ah…what?”

“You heard me,” Piper said, sounding a bit aggravated herself. “After he finished with the guns, he dug out all of Grams’ old talismans and crystals. Did you know that there are rules on how you clean these rocks? Some of them can’t touch water, some of them aren’t supposed to be in direct sunlight…there’s actually one that this book says I have to set in a pile of burning coals…”

“He really just has you cleaning?”

“I don’t get it either,” Piper muttered. “He keeps saying that preventative maintenance is important, but he was ready to sign me up for kick boxing three weeks ago. Maybe something happened he’s not telling us about…”

“I’m sure he’d say something if it were actually important…” Prue muttered. “Where is he now?”

“Picking up Sam from school. Speaking of which, you planning on coming home any time soon?”

“Probably going to be late…” Prue muttered. “If I want this urn in the next auction, I need to put the background check through before the end of the night, and researching it is going to take forever…”

“Just don’t stay out too late, okay? I gotta go, bye…”

“Bye…” Prue muttered, before looking across the desk nervously, and sighing as she looked at the vase.

 

(-:-)

 

Rex glanced out at the dark sky as he held a phial of blood in front of him. Part of him wanted to uncork it, see how it felt to have the blood of a Halliwell running over his fingers, but he knew it would be unwise. He only had enough to finish the ritual. He couldn’t afford to waste any.

All the same, it was intriguing. He was no seer, or a great warlock, but there was something different about the blood. Even through the bottle he could feel there was something powerful in its depths. How much of that was his Halliwell Heritage and how much was from Azazel, Rex wasn’t sure, but it would certainly be interesting to find out…

There was a knock at the door, and he put the phial into his pocket quickly before looking back to see Prue at the door. He smiled. “Ah, Prue, I almost forgot you were here this late…”

It was a lie. He knew damn well she had been in her office. He always knew where she was these days.

“Just trying to finish some research, but I’m heading out now,” Prue answered, smiling tiredly.

“I should hope you are, you look as if you’re about to fall over.” He moved away from the window, looking over her. “Go on home, get some rest. I’ll lock up when I go.”

Prue nodded, and was about to say something else when they heard a loud _thump_ down the hall.

Both Prue and Rex stood up straight.

“What was that?” Rex muttered, his voice low.

Prue started back down the hallway towards her office, walking slowly and quietly, glancing back at Rex every now and then just to make sure that he was still there. The door to her office was closed, but the shadows of two figures were moving across the window.

Rex wanted to swear. Of all things, a robbery was not something he was inclined to deal with. He saw Prue quiver slightly in front of him.

“Watch it you silly girl,” someone hissed inside, barely audible through the crack beneath the door.

“I’m sure no one heard…” a younger voice replied sharply.

There was a pause, and one of the shadows moved towards her desk.

“This is the urn, I believe.”

Prue let out a tiny gasp. “The urn…” she breathed. She shot a look over at Rex, whose brows had furrowed tensely. He swallowed before looking at Prue, and starting to back away. “I’m going to call the police,” he muttered quietly, before retreating back down the hallway.

Prue remained where she was, torn between rushing into her office to stop them and waiting for the cops.

Inside, the older voice spoke. “I don’t think the buffoons who stole this had any clue what it was really worth…look at the etching here…marvelous really.”

“Sir, we should be going. What are you going to need to remove it safely?”

“Just my gloves. I’m going to need my books to undo the rest of the spells.”

Prue felt her blood boil as they spoke. The urn wasn’t only stolen, but it was magic as well.

Whatever Clay wanted with Phoebe, it wasn’t good.

 

(-:-)

 

Clay grit his teeth as he wandered across the docks, looking everywhere for Palmer.

Just as he had said when they had met earlier that day, Palmer had called, insisting that the two of them meet. It was the last thing that Clay wanted to do, but he knew he had to. If Palmer didn’t get his cut of the money, the man would hunt him down. So, under the guise of going to pick up Chinese food, Clay made his way to the dock, hoping to make this meeting quick so that he could get back to Phoebe.

“There you are!”

The voice startled him a little, but he turned around to look at Palmer and frowned. “I told you I would be here, didn’t I?” he grumbled, before walking over. “Now, what the hell did you want to meet in person for? Couldn’t we have done this on the phone?”

“Hey, hey, hey, no need to get testy,” Palmer said, glowering. “Did you let Wes know what’s going on?”

“No,” Clay admitted, reaching up and scratching the back of his head. “I haven’t heard from him since we left Cairo, actually.”

Palmer seemed to stiffen, looking confused. “Wait a sec, you mean he didn’t call you either?”

Clay stopped, looking back over at Palmer. “Me _either_? You mean you haven’t heard from him?”

“Nah, he was supposed to be on the boat over before me, too. Shit, man, this ain’t good.”

For a few moments, Clay tried to keep from shaking, and took a breath. “Alright-we…we just gotta keep calm. I’ve already got my friend working to sell the urn and-“

“At Buckland’s. I know, I heard. It thought we agreed we’d talk this over before finally hawking it, remember. That auction house is no good this early in the game. We gotta take it somewhere a little less strict with the rules. I’ve already got another buyer lined up and everything.”

Clay raised an eyebrow. “Wait a second-what?” he managed to sputter. “Wes and I talked about this. Buckland’s is-“

“Already running their databases to find out if it was stolen. My guy doesn’t ask questions, and he can get us the best money for it. Little creepy, but he knows what he’s talking about when it comes to weird shit like this.” Palmer looked at Clay with the sharpest look he could manage. “Face it man, it was a bad gig. We gotta do this my way now, alright?”

Biting the inside of his lip, Clay tried not to think of what he would have to tell Phoebe to get the urn back, or worse, if Phoebe found out that the urn was stolen. “Yeah…yeah okay…” he finally agreed. “What do we have to do?”

Smiling a bit, Palmer opened his mouth to answer just as s breeze blew in off of the water. But when Clay expected to smell salt and fish, the musty smell of spices and perfume hit his face, and his eyes widened when he realized it smelled like Cairo.

He drowned out the sound of Palmer’s voice, wondering where it was coming from and whether it was just his imagination. He had almost convinced himself that his mind was playing tricks on him when he saw sand pooling around their feet, starting to shape itself into something just behind Palmer.

At this point, Palmer had stopped speaking, and was looking at the ground just like Clay. When Palmer noticed the form behind him solidifying into that of a woman, he nearly jumped out of his skin and skittered backward to stand next to Clay

The two of them stared, mouths agape as she looked at them appraisingly. Palmer started to stammer unintelligibly, which only made her frown. “Where is my urn?”

“I…I left it at Buckland’s…who are…”

“I am the guardian,” she answered shortly. “And you two will be punished for your greed…” She raised an arm, and touched Palmer on the shoulder before he could realize what was going on. He screamed the second that he saw the scorpion that she had placed on him, and flailed to try and get it off of him.

Clay staggered backwards, mouth agape in horror as the scorpion crawled to Palmer’s neck. The second that it’s tail struck, Palmer’s screams got louder, and within moments, he had crumpled to the ground, gasping for air, eventually stilling completely.

It was moments later that he looked up and saw the Guardian moving towards him, her hand outstretched.

He did the only thing he could do and bolted.

She stayed behind, satisfied knowing that he would lead her back to what was hers.

 

(-:-)

 

Piper made a face as she finally crawled out of Dean’s basement-bedroom, hands pruny from cleaning talismans all afternoon.

She was half a second from going back down and demanding to know what all the housework was for, but instead, she just grit her teeth and went to the kitchen. In the next room, Phoebe was on the phone, looking worried about something or another, but Sam was sitting at the table, working on homework.

“What did I miss in the land of the living?” she asked with a sigh, sliding into the seat across from Sam.

He shrugged, but nodded at Phoebe. “She can’t get a hold of Clay for some reason,” he answered. “He’s supposed to be getting dinner too…”

“That’s weird…”

“I just hope he gets here soon. I’m starving…” Sam grumbled. He trailed off, looking up at her and raising an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with you?”

She shrugged. “Nothing…nothing…” she muttered. “Just frustrated. Dean said he and I could train today and all we’ve done is clean.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You’re kidding, right? Dean?”

“Nope,” she grumbled. “First the guns, then every crystal in the house. I’m half a second from strangling him if he doesn’t take this seriously.”

“I’m sure he’s not trying to make it a joke or anything,” Sam said, trying to sooth her. “I mean, the crystal thing is new, but he’s actually pretty serious about gun upkeep and stuff.”

Piper tried not to glare at him. “I find that hard to believe. At least he taught Phoebe how to punch. Even target practice at this point would be nice…He seemed so gung ho about getting us involved in hunting and now he just wants to take it easy? Jeez…maybe it’s something to do with me. I just wish I knew what was going through his head…”

A glance at Sam told Piper that she had obviously missed something as she spoke. He had stopped looking at her, instead rubbing his arm tensely.

She raised an eyebrow. “Sam?” she asked, calling him back to the conversation. “Are you okay?”

He focused on her again, and nodded. “Yeah…” he muttered softly. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look it,” she responded. “What are you thinking?”

Sam didn’t say anything for a moment, but looked up at her before breathing a small sigh. “It’s just…if he’s taking it easy on you, that it isn’t necessarily a bad thing…”

She frowned, trying to figure out what that meant when the door slammed open all of a sudden.

In the next room, Phoebe darted towards the entry way, looking anxious. As she started to say something, Prue came into view, looking absolutely furious.

“Where’s Clay?” the eldest Halliwell hissed.

Phoebe started to recoil, looking confused as her sister set down her purse. Sam and Piper edged into the room, looking similarly concerned. “Ah…out getting Chinese food, but he isn’t answering his phone. Why? What is it?”

“That urn was stolen,” Prue replied. “I knew something had to be wrong with it! And to take the cake, it’s also cursed!”

“Woah-woah-woah, what? What about curses?” Sam interrupted.

Phoebe’s eyes narrowed angrily. “How do you know it’s cursed?”

“Just the people that came to steal it were talking about it,” Prue responded. “I don’t know if they’re working with Clay, or with someone else, or if they’re in it for themselves, but they stole the urn from Buckland’s and were talking the entire time about the spells they needed to cast to protect themselves.” She rounded on Phoebe. “Your boyfriend-”

“No…no no no, no way. Clay wouldn’t have done that…” Phoebe started stammering. “He wouldn’t have gotten me involved with this if…”

“Er…”

Everyone paused as they noticed that the door had opened again. Clay had walked through the door, out of breath and wide-eyed. The look on his face said everything.

Phoebe felt her throat tighten. “You didn’t…” she choked.

“Well I didn’t know about the curse until now.”

Prue continued to look furious, but Piper’s eyes narrowed, and she took a step forward. “Tell us what happened.”

 

(-:-)

 

Abby looked at the television, keeping it muted as to not disturb her mentor. In a nearby mirror, she could see his reflection as he worked, muttering under his breath as he tried to find the counter curse or protection spell from whatever enchantments were on the urn.

Just looking at the thing made her cringe, though.

Even at fifteen, Abby was no stranger to the magical world. She had known all about curses and spells even before Talbot had taken her in. A dusty old book on one of her mother’s shelves could help a girl considerably, but there were some things that even she wasn’t completely comfortable with. The urn on the table was one of them.

The second she had heard what it was and what it did, she had wanted nothing more than to move on and let the men who stole it first die for it. It was ignorance that got them in this mess and they deserved whatever was coming to them.

She didn’t make the rules, though, and if Bela wanted the stupid vase, then Bela was going to get the stupid vase, and she had to shut up and do as she was told. Even if it meant becoming cursed herself.

Glancing away from the mirror, she focused on the TV again, just in time to see a familiar face pop up on the screen next to the news anchor.

The subtitles at the bottom read: _A man was found dead a few hours ago at McMurray Pier. The police have yet to identify him and…_

That was all Abby needed to know, and she called over her shoulder to her boss. “Looks like the curse got to Mr. Palmer already.”

Bela looked up from his work, taking a second to see the TV before nodding. “Good news for us I suppose. Unless his friend finds us, that means we won’t have to pay a cent for this gorgeous urn.”

 _Thief killing urn_ Abby corrected in her head, turning off the television before turning back to her mentor and taking a seat at the table across from him. She looked over the details of the piece as he continued his work. Even if it was deadly, even she would admit it was beautiful, but it wasn’t worth dying over. She looked at Bela then, and the book he was reading.

She didn’t say a word as she observed, trying to learn what she could by just watching. Even if she knew some things about magic and curses, she was still a novice. Talbot was an expert. If either of them had any chance, it was going to be him.

“If Palmer’s dead, the curse isn’t that far from us next.”

Talbot looked up at her slyly. “Then I suppose I’ll have to break the curse before that time comes.”

As if she had any other options.

 

(-:-)

 

Phoebe stayed quiet as she looked at the photographs of the urn that Prue had taken. They were scattered across the table along with as much of Prue’s research that she had been able to get before leaving the auction house.

In the chair next to her, Prue was pointing at different symbols on the photo, giving her hypothesis on what each of them might have meant, and what magical implications they had. Phoebe didn’t hear a word though, too busy wondering why she hadn’t questioned what Clay was doing sooner.

“It looks like she can kill us in some of the most gruesome ways the ancient world had to offer. I sure hope she doesn’t target us for just having touched the thing,” Prue muttered, setting the photo down. “Your boyfriend is in a lot of trouble if we can’t figure this out.”

Something in her chest tweaked a little at the word boyfriend, but she didn’t mention it, instead saying, “I know, I know…but we have to. We’ve figured these things out before, haven’t we?”

“On monsters, maybe, but when it comes to cursed objects, Dean makes it sound like they can be kind of finicky.” Prue leaned back in her chair, shaking her head. “This is getting too close to call. Two people have already died.”

“That doesn’t mean Clay is going to, too…”

Phoebe didn’t look at her sister, instead focusing on the images on the table. Prue decided to drop it, instead glancing towards the door when she heard it creek open. “Well, speak of the devil…” she muttered, as Clay walked into the room.

Phoebe looked up, pursing her lips when she saw him. She wasn’t sure about how to feel yet: hurt because he had lied to her, or protective. She still cared about him, after all, and even if she didn’t he was one of their charges now; not necessarily an innocent, but a victim of magic all the same.

“How are you holding up?” she asked.

He had been a little pale since he had returned from the docks, and quiet. After a second, he shrugged and answered, “Alright, just angry at myself for getting into this mess…”

“I’m sure it’s not the first time…” Prue muttered.

Phoebe shot her a sharp look.

Her sister just put up her hands, and started to stand. “Hey, he jeopardized my job and hurt my little sister. I think I’m allowed to be bitter…” Even so, she went ahead and walked out of the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone.

Phoebe turned away, looking back at the pictures, while Clay watched, trying to think of something to say. It was a few moments before he finally asked, “You mad at me?”

She paused for a few seconds, but answered, “Not as mad as I should be.”

He sighed through his nose. “Ain’t that the truth…” he muttered. He moved across the room to take Prue’s chair. “You guys should have thrown me out the second you found out what was going on, Pheebs. You could get hurt. You know that.”

Phoebe smiled weakly, looking up at him. “I’ve been through worse,” she said, thinking of all of the monsters and magical problems they had solved over the past few weeks. All the same, none of them felt as difficult as this one did. “Besides, even if you did something bad, I don’t think you deserve to die for it.”

Glancing at the picture of the vase, Clay shook his head. “I wish I felt that way about it…” he muttered. “Wesley and Palmer both already got it. I didn’t particularly like the guys, but…”

He trailed off, trying not to think of what he had seen at the docks, wondering what had happened to Wesley. He wished he had known how he died. Was it a scorpion bite like on Palmer, or was it one of the many other ways that the vase could have killed him?

“I do have to ask one question, though,” Phoebe said after a beat. Once Palmer looked back at her, she asked, “Why? Why go through all this trouble? Going to Egypt, tracking me down on the other side of the world…what was so important about this thing?”

Clay shrugged. “Not the vase, obviously. But the money sounded like it was too good. Got a lot of debts to pay back in the city…”

Phoebe frowned. The story sounded familiar. “You always did live above your means…” she muttered.

“That’s why I was trying to get out of this,” Clay said pleadingly. “I thought if I could just get out from under everything, if I could fix it, then I could straighten up.” He shook his head. “Look how that turned out…”

Phoebe reached out, putting her hand on top of his. “Hey, it’s not over yet,” she said firmly. “We’re gonna save you, alright? Whatever this thing is doing, we can stop it. You still have time to turn it around…”

“After everything I’ve screwed up, I don’t think so Pheebs. I’m not even sure if I want to…”

They looked at each other sadly, and Phoebe was about to open her mouth and explain why he was wrong when heavy boots clanked over the wood floor, and Dean slid in with a notepad in his hand.

“Paydirt!” he announced, waving the notepad in the air before slipping into one of the other chairs at the table.

“You found the guy that took the vase?” Phoebe asked, letting go of Clay’s hand. “Already?”

“Called Bobby,” Dean explained, shrugging a little. “Apparently, there are only a few guys in the world that deal in this sort of thing. From what your buddy Palmer told you, the best match was a guy named Talbot. With a little bit of digging and a phone call to a friend, we found one of his aliases at the hotel you saw Palmer at the other day.” He waved the notebook again before slapping it down on the table. “Fifth floor, room 503.”

“That’s great…” Phoebe said, a tiny bit of relief in her voice as she looked at the notepad. “Do you think maybe stealing the urn back and returning to its owners will fix this?”

Dean shrugged. “It’s an idea,” he said dubiously. “I just don’t know whether there’s time to get it back to Egypt before it decides to kill again…”

He winced a little when Phoebe deflated, and Clay started to look a bit more hopeless than he had a moment ago.

“Ah-but maybe Piper and Sam found something!” He quickly sputtered. Neither of them perked up though, and Dean was incredibly grateful when they heard Prue yell at them to go upstairs.

“Saved by the bell…”

The situation was made no better when they reached the attic, though. The Book of Shadows didn’t seem to have any information on the Urn. Sam knew the book from front to back, and if he said it wasn’t there, then it wasn’t, leaving them to check the rest of Gram’s bookshelf.

They found answers there.

None of them were hopeful.

The look on their faces was pitying when they saw Clay, and it was Piper who eventually said, “We can’t fix this.”

 

(-:-)

 

Rex strolled through the halls of the warehouse, checking the remaining details. There were wards up, preventing them from being searched for by magic, although he wondered slightly whether any higher powers would be looking for them once it began.

There were neat markings on each of the walls, very detailed spells cast in blood to help their task, channel the power of their master. It would make things easier they hoped, so they didn’t have to bother him by summoning him directly. In the room at the direct center of the warehouse, he found Hannah with the last of the preparations, gathering the remaining items he needed to cast the spell.

She made a face as she pulled a phial of Manticore Scales from her bag, and he wondered if she had ruined her shoes again to get them.

“Everything is here,” she announced efficiently, turning and gesturing to the row of ingredients. “Did you get the blood from the good doctor?”

He grinned, pulling the phials out of his pocket. “Indeed,” he answered, handing them over.

She grinned, and glanced at it in her hand. “Wonderful. In that case, the only thing left is the kid himself.”

“I’ve got that covered as well,” Rex answered lightly. He waved his hand, and he could see the boy at the Manor, glancing fearfully through several books. Having Sam’s blood made it easy to know where he was at all times. He grinned.

“You get the potion started. I’ll get the boy.”

 

(-:-)

 

Everyone was quiet while Phoebe muttered to herself, flipping through one book after another as she pulled them off of the bookshelf.

They already knew that it would do no good. Sam had pulled out all of the books on cursed objects hours ago. After that, they had spent another hour trying to see if that was all they had, but it didn’t do any good. They knew what was happening.

The Goddess of the Urn didn’t have a name, but she was easy enough to find in the Book of Egyptian Curses, which Grams kept with the mass of other books in the Attic. There were urns across the globe under her protection, all of them with motifs of Egyptian culture painted across them, and a signature of sorts that invoked her magic.

There was also a history of thieves that had attempted to take her urns.

They never got a happy ending.

There were plenty of stories. If a thief stole the urn, something killed him. Crocodiles, spiders, scorpions, locusts. One guy had even died by sand filling up every orifice in his body, suffocating him in the middle of a London museum. You couldn’t trick her. You couldn’t negotiate. No one survived, except in a small number of cases when a slave had been forced by their masters. Someone still usually lost an arm.

Sam and Piper had gone through everything they had, but that one book was all they had to go on.

So the only option had been to tell the truth. They didn’t know how to save Clay, and on such short notice, no one thought they could.

“Phoebe…”

The sister in question didn’t look back around when Prue tried calling her. “What about protection spells. Do we know anything about how the urn reacts to those?” she muttered, mostly to herself.

Prue looked sidelong at Dean, who was pursing his lips, and trying to come up with something to say. Sam and Piper had given up, and were instead trying to clean up all of the books they had scattered around.

None of them looked at Clay.

In the face of his death sentence, he hadn’t made a big show of emotion. He seemed to put on a mask, his expression stony as he kept his eyes on Phoebe.

“Or maybe there’s another god or guardian who can counter her…maybe a spell, or…”

While she continued babbling, he slowly walked away from the other Halliwells, down the stairs without a word.

“Phoebe…” Prue repeated, this time crossing the room. She put a hand on her sister’s shoulder, hoping to be a source of comfort, only for Phoebe to shake her off. “Phoebe! There’s nothing we can do. You need-“

“Don’t say that!” Phoebe practically screamed in response. She rounded on her sister with her eyes narrow, and her teeth bared. “We are going to find something! There has to be!”

“There isn’t Phoebe,” Sam said quietly, looking up at her from the side of the room. “The Guardian has been doing this for thousands of years. No one gets out of it.”

“We can’t just give up!” She crossed the room, pulling the books out of Piper’s hands and going back to the table with them. “We have to have missed something. I can’t…” She was shaking by the time she sat down, hands trembling as she looked through the books that Piper and Sam already knew wouldn’t help.

Dean sat down next to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Phoebe,” he started.

She cut him off. “No! I’m not giving up. We have to…” She looked back at the book in her hands, rifling through the pages ineffectively. “Have to…We…I can’t…”

“Phoebe…”

When Phoebe looked up, she saw Piper in front of her, sitting on the table, and closing the book. She leaned forward, wrapping Phoebe’s hands in her own. Phoebe could see it on her face that Piper was just as lost about this as Phoebe was. Her eyes were watery and scared, and Piper didn’t want Clay to die either. But…

Piper swallowed. “We can’t save him.”

No one spoke, and slowly, Phoebe’s trembling got worse. Her lips tightened into a line, and she closed her eyes, ducking her head to try and hide her crying. “But…I…he…”

On her side, Dean pulled her into a side hug.

Prue pursed her lips.

She glanced towards the door, wondering where Clay had gone, and how he was dealing with this. Part of her even felt sorry. Everything that she had thought about him was true, after all, and the consequences were way worse than she could have imagined.

Quietly, she slunk out the door, leaving the others to comfort Phoebe. She glanced around as she reached the bottom of the stairs, wondering where he had gone to. “Clay?”

There was no response.

Her heart started to beat a little faster. What if the guardian had gotten to him while they were looking away? She didn’t know what they’d do if he had died when all of them were in the house, not paying attention. Phoebe would never forgive herself…

“Clay?” she called again, this time more frantic.

Before she could run to check the next room, she heard the rumble of a car engine, and her eyes widened.

“No.”

There was light streaming through the window in the entry way. She swore as she rushed to the door, swinging it open violently.

She was just in time to see Piper’s car speeding off down the road.

Prue, clenched her fists, willing herself to keep her powers in check before she ran back towards the stairs.

“Dammit!”

 

(-:-)

 

Clay looked at the notepad in his hand before glancing up at the door in front of him, double checking that it was the right door before knocking. He slipped his hands into his pocket and waited.

It hadn’t been hard to get to the hotel. Piper had left her keys on the front table after all, and he didn’t feel too bad about _borrowing_ her jeep to get there. He’d return it, presuming he had the chance, and it wasn’t like things could get any worse with Phoebe…

But then again…

He sort of wished he had at least stuck around to say goodbye.

The door swung open before he could think about it too much, revealing a young girl, who was looking at him doubtfully. “Clay?” she asked him.

He nodded. “You Talbot?” he responded in turn.

“His assistant. He wants to know why you’re here.”

“Wanna know if you’re keeping up your end of the bargain,” he responded harshly. “Just ‘cause Palmer’s dead doesn’t mean I don’t want my cut.”

She didn’t look impressed. Judging by the look on her face, she knew he was faking it, and that he was here to see the urn. She didn’t say anything about that, though, instead letting the door swing open and admit him into the hotel room. “Rest assured, sir, the death of one party is not enough for us to forget our negotiations. Mr. Talbot is currently attempting to remove the enchantments on the Urn, after which we can discuss payment.”

She shut the door behind him after he was inside. He looked around, catching a glimpse of the thief himself in a corner of the hotel room. From what he saw, he wasn’t doing much better than what the Halliwell’s had. Despite the number of books and crystals and talismans around him, there was a frustrated crease in his brow. He had stolen the urn almost 8 hours ago, and still, he didn’t look like he had found the answer either.

“Attempting?” he questioned, keeping an eye on the urn.

Talbot himself answered irritably. “Egyptian magic is more complicated than you could possibly know…” His hands moved back to his books, flipping through one of the pages rapidly. “If you have any sense you will keep your mouth shut until I have finished…”

“And how long is that gonna be?”

There was a small huff nearby, and Clay looked up briefly to see Abby leaning against the wall. She looked frustrated, and he could see a glint of fear in her eyes. Apparently, both of them were on edge. “It could very well take days depending on the spellcaster…”

“Abby…” Talbot growled in warning.

“Merely answering the man’s question, sir,” she answered. “He deserves to know whether he has a chance or not.”

Talbot snapped out of his seat. “I will not tolerate your insolence!” he shouted at her. “You were the one that came to me, and I will not be disrespected!”

Abby grit her teeth, and looked like she was biting back another remark, but Clay stopped paying attention when Talbot stomped away from his workstation. While Talbot began berating her, Clay slunk away from the scene, grabbing the urn and sprinting towards the door.

 

(-:-)

 

“I can’t believe he took my car…” Piper hissed, crammed into the back seat as the Halliwells drove past the docks.

“He thinks he’s doing the right thing,” Phoebe argued, although the tension in her voice betrayed both her nerves and how angry she was at the situation. What was Clay thinking, going to track down the urn? What did he think he could do with it, even if he did have it?

“That doesn’t mean it’s okay…” Prue grumbled.

“Guys, can we focus on the job?” Dean asked. “Everyone keep your eye out. He might be around here somewhere…”

They fell silent, and everyone looked out their respective windows. It was a block away from the hotel that Sam piped up and said, “There! I see him!”

A few hundred feet in front of them, Clay was running as fast as he could towards away from the hotel, as if he were going towards the docks on the other side of the road.

Phoebe started to get out of the car, about to yell at him to get in when he saw a man chasing after him, shouting profanities and threats. “That’s gotta be Talbot…” she said.

They all piled out of the Impala after Dean put her in park. “Phoebe, go after Clay, the rest of us will stop Talbot.”

“Gotcha!”

The five of them immediately joined the chase. Dean, Piper, Sam and Prue went in the same direction as Talbot and Clay had gone, hoping to catch up to them. Phoebe took a detour by running to another entrance, hoping to reach Clay by going around.

As soon as they reached the other side, of the street, though, a young girl suddenly appeared in front of them, and Sam bowled directly into her. The two of them went sprawling on the hard wood of the docks.

“Oh my god!” Piper sputtered as the girl started sobbing. “Are you okay-“

Prue shoved her off, pointing Piper and Dean in another direction while she helped Sam to stand up. “Both of you, keep going!”

“I’m sorry!” Sam started, sputtering a little. “We didn’t mean to-“

The girl just kept crying, though, keeping her hands over her face. “I w-want my mo-o-o-omm….” She choked.

Prue sighed, wanting to go after Talbot, but instead ducked down to the girl’s level. “Alright, sweetie. Look, we’re sorry. Why don’t we find your mom and get you bandaged up okay?”

The girl kept choking out sobs for a few moments, but she pulled her face away from her hands, and Prue suddenly realized that she wasn’t nearly as young as she had made herself seem. In fact, she looked familiar.

“Wait a second, you were at the auction house earlier…” Prue muttered.

The crocodile tears immediately stopped, and the girl muttered, “Oh bugger it,” before sweeping out to kick out their legs.

 

(-:-)

 

Clay ran as hard as he could, ducking between shipping crates and breathing heavily, trying to stay ahead of the people he knew were following him. He stopped when he reached the water.

For a few minutes, he listened, getting his breath back under control when he realized that he couldn’t hear anyone. He looked over his shoulder and couldn’t see them either. Somehow, he had managed to lose Talbot and his assistant.

Knowing there was no one that could stop him, he pulled the urn out from under his arm.

For a few moments, he just stared at it, wondering what it was about the thing that made it so deadly, and hating it for the things it had done. As he thought, he raised it over his head, looking at the water beneath him.

He’d thought this through. The urn had to find people to kill them. If he threw it in the water, it would be done. No one else would die because of it because no one would ever see it again. He wouldn’t get his money, but he would be safe.

But then again…

He _had_ stolen the urn , and in the past few months, he had done worse to try and get out of his debts. By all accounts, he deserved what was coming to him. Palmer and Wesley probably did too.

There was probably no way of saving himself either, even if he were to throw the urn this very second. The Halliwells had said that much. Dragging it out would only lead them to harm. Phoebe was already hurt from being involved in the first place, so what was the point?

Lowering his hands, he looked at the urn contemplatively, eventually putting it back under his arm and starting to turn.

Then he heard a voice.

“You have chosen to not to destroy the urn. That is wise of you.”

The Guardian was standing a few feet away from him. She was wearing the same stern expression that had been on her face when she had killed Palmer, and even though she was praising him, there was no mercy to be found.

Clay’s jaw tightened, and he gulped. “If you kill me, what happens?” he asked.

The Guardian raised an eyebrow. “You die,” she said simply. “Then I kill the other thief.”

“But after that,” Clay asked. “Who else will die because I brought you here? Phoebe tried to help me, but she didn’t know…”

“I will not kill those who were involved against their will,” the Guardian assured him. “They will be asked to return my urn to its rightful place, but none of them will come to harm.”

Clay nodded a bit, and set the urn on the ground.

“Then kill me.”

There was a moment where the Guardian paused, glancing over him as if she were making a judgment. But, in the end, she nodded, and held out her hand. The scorpion sitting on her palm made him shudder, but he stretched a hand out to accept it all the same.

“Clay-NO!”

Phoebe’s voice made him pull back. She had emerged from the wall of shipping crates, and he felt his heart pound when he saw her there, panicking about him. His chest tightened, and he started to draw away from the guardian.

“Phoebe, how did you-“

He stopped mid sentence when he saw Talbot appear behind her.

“Look out!”

Phoebe spun around, and barely ducked out of the way before the thief made a swing at her. She tried to shove him to the ground, but despite his age, he was bigger and stronger than she was. He grabbed her arm, glaring at her and hissing, “Stay out of this girl,” before moving to throw her off

Clay sprinted forwards, catching her and pulling her to her feet before she could hit the ground, and forcing her behind him. “I don’t know what you’re doing,” he growled at Talbot. “But you need to leave…”

The older man rolled his eyes. “I’ll deal with you once I have that urn back,” he muttered.

With that, he turned and walked further down the dock, and Clay realized that the Guardian had vanished.

He pulled away from Phoebe, looking around frantically. “Where’d she go?” he whispered.

Phoebe’s eyes went wide, but she was quick on the uptake, and looked over at Talbot, who was just moments from picking up the Urn.

He was also completely unaware of the asp that was slithering up behind him.

“Hey!” she shouted, starting to sprint down the dock. “Look out!”

She reached him just before the snake did, shoving him away from the urn and into the water below. The snake hissed sharply, rearing up and bearing its fangs. And her eyes went wide when it moved forwards to strike.

“No!”

Clay appeared out of nowhere, diving in front of her. The snake hit him, and vanished, leaving him to fall to the ground limply.

Phoebe went still with shock.

In the water, Talbot sputtered, looking up at the dock where Phoebe was still standing, staring at the lifeless man in front of her. The Guardian reappeared a few feet away from her, looking down at him. He started to laugh as she looked down at him pitilessly. He was not surprised when something bit him, and dragged him underwater with the swish of a scaled tail.

Not noticing any of this, Phoebe started to shake, and crumpled to her knees next to Clay’s body. She tried to talk, but her voice caught in her throat. She slowly managed to cover her mouth with her hand.

“Dean! Dean they’re over here!”

Piper appeared from the maze of shipping crates, and a few moments later, Dean came out of them behind her. They ran as fast as they could to reach her side, but eventually slowed when they saw what had happened. Phoebe was silently crying.

“Justice has been done,” the Guardian declared, pulling their attention to her.

Without looking away from Clay, Phoebe choked on the words, “This is justice? He didn’t…he was trying to protect me…”

The Guardian turned her stern gaze to Phoebe. “He understood and accepted his fate long before your arrival,” she explained. “He was ready for his punishment either way. Dying in your defense was a far nobler death than his alternative.”

Phoebe glanced up and for a long moment, she and Guardian locked gazes. Despite herself, Phoebe knew that she had lost to the guardian, and she bowed her head.

Looking back to Piper and Dean, the Guardian pointed at her urn. “Your friends have apprehended a young woman who will answer to the name Bela. As she was unwilling in her assistance to steal my urn, I will not kill her, but she still has a debt to repay. Take my urn back to her, and tell her to return it to Cairo.”

“And if she doesn’t want to do it?” Dean asked.

“She knows the consequences if she does not,” the Guardian said assuredly. “She will do as you ask.”

“What if we don’t want to do it?” Piper asked, her voice low as she crouched next to her sister, putting an arm around her as she cried.

The Guardian’s cold eyes turned to Piper sharply. “Then you will become victims of my wrath as well.”

With that, the Guardian began to disappear, swirling into infinite grains of sand and blowing away.

No one said anything after that.

 

(-:-)

 

When they got back to the pier, they found Prue and Sam guarding the girl that the Guardian had told them about. The girl didn’t speak to them when they asked who she was, but after they told her what happened, and explained the task she had been charged with, she sat up a little straighter, eyes wide.

“He’s really dead?” she asked.

“There’s no body to account for, but if the Guardian said she’s done, I’d bet she’s telling the truth,” Dean confirmed. “How’s a kid like you involved with that creep in the first place?”

“It’s complicated.”

It didn’t actually explain anything, but the way the girl said it made it obvious that she wasn’t going to tell them anything more. She glanced at the urn they had handed her, studying it carefully.

Knowing that she was done paying attention to them, Dean shook his head, turning around, and walking a few paces back to where the rest of the family had gathered. Prue and Sam had come out of the fight with minimal injuries, but the eldest of the Halliwells looked very angry about the entire ordeal. Phoebe had stopped crying, but she had curled up on herself, making it obvious she was very far from being okay.

“Well, our job is done,” Dean declared. “She has the urn, she knows what’s going on. I say we get out of here.”

Prue looked back over at the girl, and shook her head. “Why don’t you guys go on, get home and get some rest, alright?” she suggested. “I’ll keep an eye on her for a few more minutes.”

Phoebe looked up, and asked, “Are you sure?” in a sore, tired voice.

Piper put a hand on her shoulder, and nudged her upright. “Prue’s right,” she said softly. “C’mon, let’s go home…” She wrapped an arm around her sister and started to walk away from the docks.

Dean looked at Prue for a few moments, silently asking if she were sure she would be okay, before handing her the keys, and starting to walk after the other two girls. He paused, though, when he realized that Sam wasn’t following behind. Instead, the youngest Halliwell was looking curiously at the girl they had fought with.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You coming Sammy?” he asked.

Looking away from the girl, Sam glanced at Dean and shook his head. “I’ll go home with Prue. You help Phoebe,” he said simply, before turning and walking towards the girl.

Raising an eyebrow, Dean looked at Prue in confusion, before deciding that he probably didn’t want to know. He walked off to join Phoebe and Piper at the car. Prue took a few steps closer, watching Sam as he spoke to the girl.

“It’s Bela, right?”

She didn’t answer right away. She was caught up looking at the urn, a serious expression on her face eventually giving way to a smile. Eventually she looked away, saying, “It is now.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at the comment, but nodded. “You don’t seem too upset about your dad dying.”

That actually made her snort. “He wasn’t my dad,” she responded assuredly. “A teacher, maybe, but I’m honestly not that sad to him see go.”

“Probably not best for you to go to Cairo by yourself,” Sam said. “I mean, we can’t go with you, but we might be able to get you to the airport, if you want.”

Bela looked at him as if she were amused before standing up. “I think I’ll manage,” she said confidently. “I should actually probably go back to the hotel and pack up my things. I believe I have a plane to catch.” She started to turn, but stopped half way through. She put the urn under her arm and started to dig through one of her pockets. When she found something, she turned back to them, throwing it in Prue’s direction.

Fumbling to catch it, Prue made a face when she recognized the necklace that she had been researching earlier that day, before the Urn had showed up. “Hey! That was in my office!”

“Yes it was, and I decided that since I was already there, I would go ahead and grab it,” Bela admitted. “But you’ve all been rather forgiving about my part in this, so have it back.” At that she smiled, and turned around, starting to walk back to the hotel.

Sam watched her walk away before shrugging, “Well she didn’t seem too bad,” he said optimistically.

Prue just shook her head, and started walking to the Impala. “That’s relative,” she muttered, looking at the necklace in her hands. “I can’t believe she took this…”

“You said Talbot was a thief,” Sam said, shrugging slightly. “Maybe she was his apprentice or something.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

“Doesn’t mean she’ll keep doing it now that he’s dead.”

“I wouldn’t be so optimistic…” Prue put the necklace into her pocket when they reached the car. “We’re going to have to stop by the auction house before we go home,” she said. “I need to get this back to my office before anyone realizes it’s missing, alright?’

Sam just shrugged.

 

(-:-)

 

A few minutes later, he found himself in the parking garage beneath Buckland’s, sitting in the Impala while Prue ran inside. He leaned against the window, about to fall asleep.

Something knocked on the glass, startling him.

He was mildly relieved, though, when he saw that it was Prue’s boss by the door, looking through the window in concern. “Are you alright in there?”

“Mr. Buckland?” he asked in confusion, opening the door and stepping out of the car. “Aren’t you here, like, really late?” He paused for a moment as he remembered that he had been out for half the night chasing thieves. “Er…early, I guess?”

Rex looked amused. “To be completely honest, I practically live here,” he admitted, wincing a little. “Not in the parking garage of course.” The smile that came onto his face made it obvious that he was trying to be funny, but Sam really didn’t want to laugh about it.

Honestly, his past experiences with the man only ever creeped him out. Meeting him in a dark parking garage this late at night was doing nothing to improve that impression.

Getting the message, Rex stopped laughing at his own joke, and looked back at Sam somberly. “What about you, though? I can’t imagine that this is where you youngsters hang out at three in the morning…”

This time, though, Sam put on a fake smile and tried to make a joke, because there was honestly nothing he could think to say. “Oh, you know us youths and our crazy teenage antics…”

Rex raised an eyebrow. “So your family is nowhere around?” he asked.

“Err…Prue’s inside,” Sam admitted.

Rex nodded. “That’s not ideal,” he muttered, glancing around their level in the garage. “But I suppose it will do.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed. Rex looked down at him with a smile, and suddenly, Sam realized that something was very wrong.

 

(-:-)

 

The other three Halliwells were silent when they arrived back at the manor.

Phoebe went upstairs immediately, muttering about tidying up the attic, or something, while Dean and Piper lingered behind her. The two of them shared a look, not knowing what to say.

It didn’t help that Piper was pretty shaken up too. She and the others had known that they couldn’t save Clay, but she hadn’t imagined actually seeing him dead. Like it or not, he was their responsibility. He wasn’t quite an innocent, but he was theirs to save, and they had failed.

She leaned against a wall, wrapping her arms around herself as she tried to keep from thinking about his body, still down by the docks waiting for someone to find it. She looked up at Dean, who was standing stiffly a few feet away from her.

“You okay?” he asked after a bit.

She shook her head. “Not really,” she answered shakily. She let out a long breath. “How do you deal with it?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Deal with what?”

“The people you’re trying to protect dying?” she muttered. “I don’t think I’ll ever get the look on his face out of my head…”

Dean slumped a little, and Piper realized something she hadn’t seen a few moments ago. For all his bluster, trying to protect the girls, trying to be the man in the family, he was shaking.

“To be completely honest, I…I haven’t,” he muttered.

Piper’s jaw went slack. “This…this is the first time you’ve lost someone, too…”

He clenched his teeth, but after a few moments, he nodded. Piper was about to move across the space between them to give him a hug when they heard something upstairs.

They both stopped and looked towards the attic, where a soft crying sound was coming from. They didn’t even have to look at each other before they both started up the stairs together.

Phoebe was on the floor in front of the coffee table when they got there, arms wrapped around some of the books they had been going through earlier that day, as if she had collapsed halfway through picking them up. Tears were streaming down her face again, and this time, it didn’t look like she was anywhere close to stopping.

Piper’s eyes welled with tears as well, and she was across the room in a second to wrap her arms around her sister. “Oh honey…”

Dean trailed behind them, trying harder and harder not to cry along with them. He couldn’t take it anymore when Phoebe let out a wail, and walked over to wrap his arms around the two of them. He grit his teeth hard as the tears started coming, and he hid his face in Piper’s shoulder.

It was a long while before Phoebe choked out, “Why couldn’t we save him?”

Neither of them had a good response, but she pulled out of the embrace before they could actually say anything. “Why couldn’t we do anything?” she repeated. “It’s our job to save people from magic. We should…we should have been able to do something…”

Piper leaned back against the coffee table, and tried to find an answer, but she could only shake her head. Dean looked at her sadly. “You just can’t save everyone…”

Phoebe shook her head, shakily getting to her feet. “I can’t…” she choked. “I can’t accept that. We’re the Charmed ones! This is our job! We’re supposed to protect people and make sure this doesn’t happen, and if we can’t do that…”

Piper got to her feet, and moved towards Phoebe again to try and calm her down, but Phoebe just pushed her away. “Phoebe…” she pleaded.

“No!” Phoebe blurted. “If we can’t save people…” she paused, trailing off as another tear rolled down her face. “If we can’t save the people we care about…what’s the point?”

The two other Halliwells looked at her, and in that moment, they couldn’t give her an answer. She pursed her lips, and turned as she tried to fight off another fit of crying, leaning on the podium on which the Book of Shadows was sitting.

Without warning, a premonition shot into her head.

She saw Sam in the dark, fighting against something bigger than him, trying to scream as it wrestled him into submission putting something over his mouth so that he couldn’t breathe. He was losing the fight, losing the ability to keep going, and all of a sudden, she came out of it.

She gasped for air, eyes wide.

“Phoebe?” Piper blurted in concern, rushing over to her sister’s side. “Phoebe, what just happened? What did you see?”

Phoebe could barely keep herself from slumping to the floor as terror filled every cell in her body.

“Sam.”

%MCEPASTEBIN%

**Author's Note:**

> Modifications made to this episode: the Guardian actually killed Clay in this because she don’t give a shit what he does for other people. He stole her property and he’s gonna pay for it. The guardian didn’t poof away the urn because if she could have done that, she would have done it when the urn was stolen, not after waiting for it to sail overseas and nearly be sold. Bela got out of it because she didn’t really have a choice in the matter, but still had to do penance by returning it to where it belonged.  
> Next Episode: Sam meets his maker, the Angels don’t interfere, and Prue can’t avoid Andy when he’s trying to find her charge.


End file.
